Geoducks of Lincoln Center

Sometimes I write at the library at Lincoln Center, or on the big L-shaped couch in David Geffen Hall, right outside of Tatiana, which I hear is a big deal.

I like to approach Lincoln Center from the north west, climbing up the travertine steps and walking past the 65th Street Bridge, and for a moment, feeling like I live in Star Trek. It's one of the most hopeful and humanizing moments in Manhattan.

Then I think of San Juan Hill.

The other day as I followed this route, I noticed this etched outline in the cement floor. I'm an Alaskan so to me it looks like a clam with its shaft out. Rude. But maybe you see snail or a grimacing orangutan pointing towards the sun.

But as I walked up towards the plaza, I saw two more of them.

So, what the fuck are these?

Ok, so that was the end of the post.

But then I was going to make an image gallery to show you what this spot looks like (can't find anything good), and in reviewing old photos, I found this:

It IS a clam! Or maybe a red lettuce leaf. IDK. But, like the scar left by ripping a geoduck out of the mud, this temporary art installation has made a small but long-lasting alteration to the environment. These shapes appear to be permanently etched.

Imagine the similar signs of human use that existed at the Parthenon, centuries after the people living there had been kicked out to make room for the temple.

Like these scars on the Opera House:

Anyways, chuffed that I had the photographic evidence to solve my own mystery.

Sorry to ruin it for you.

Dan

Written in The Well, Saturday late night.